“What do you think of the Supreme Court ruling for the latest case she argued?”
“Over here, Theo! Over here!”
“Who’s your lovely lady? Is this Audrey Adams? She’s a barista, right?”
Theo had been ignoring them all until that last one, and he whipped around to glare at the photographer, who took a step back at Theo’s dark expression.
“She’s an engineer,” he snarled. “Anda barista.” The man paledand lowered his camera, but another paparazzo chose that precise moment to snap a photo of the two of them right in front of Theo’s face. He only blinked and glowered at both men before ushering Audrey inside the hotel, his hand pressed protectively into the small of her back.
It was a relief to be in the warmth and away from the cameras, and once Audrey checked her coat, she and Theo made their way around the charity auction gala, snatching bites of food from the passed plates of hors d’oeuvres and clutching flutes of champagne to their chests in the crowd.
“How do these things work?” Audrey asked, standing on her tiptoes to whisper the question into his ear.
Theo pointed at a table against the wall. “Most of the items up for bidding tonight are listed and shown over there. They’ll bring out the real things during the actual auction. The piece we’re here to see is already primed in the back, and will be rolled out on a platform and turned on in the dark as a surprise at the end of the scheduled programming.” He waggled his eyebrows at her with a crooked smirk. “I heard rumors from Lightm4st3r’s creative attorney, Imogen Phillips, that one of his sculptures might be making a last-minute appearance, and everyone in society knows I’ve been after one for some time now—even though I’ve been unsuccessful in winning so far.”
“Ah, I see,” she hummed. “Is that how it is?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve been outbid so many times. I just can’t win. Not rich enough, apparently. I’ll probably never get one.”
Audrey suppressed a snort and Theo wrapped his arm around her waist, tucking her into his side. She didn’t miss how his fingers skimmed the edge of her gown, lingering over the tiny patches of exposed bare skin at her torso and hips, spreading warmth everywhere they touched.
“So what do we do until then?”
“We dine, we dance, we avoid schmoozing at all costs. I don’t want to have to pretend like I don’t hate everyone but you here,” he muttered with a grunt. “And the auction’s only part of the scheduled programming after the dinner, which’ll end relatively early. But most people will stay and keep celebrating until the wee hours of the morning.”
The corner of Audrey’s mouth twitched.
“What?” he asked, suspicion slowly dawning across his face. “What did I say? What’s funny? You look like you want to laugh.”
She did. “You just mentioned dancing.”
As soon as she pointed it out, his expression fell. “Oh. Ohno.”
“Yousaid it.” Audrey reached up and pinched his cheek with an impish grin. “Not me. And you can’t take it back now.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the dance floor, where a not-insignificant number of people were swaying in time to the live band. “Fuck me,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He lifted the champagne to his lips and downed it with a disgusted grimace.
“Oh, I most certainly will later.”
Theo sputtered so hard, he nearly spat the champagne all over her, barely managing to recover in time. She patted his back amiably while he choked and gasped for breath.
“Yep,” he wheezed. “Both you and Violet are trying to kill me tonight, I’m sure of it.”
Audrey grabbed his hand and set her empty champagne flute on a nearby tray. “Come on, Theo. Dance with me. Please?”
The more he looked into her pleading eyes, the more she could see him break—until finally, with a strained groan, he let her drag him onto the dance floor, reluctant and limping. This time, Audrey was the one who took his hands and placed one at her back. He slid it up to a more chaste height, but before they could start swaying, she reached behind her to slowly lower it again, trying her best not toshiver when his calloused palms grazed the bare skin of her back, only to finally settle just above the swell of her hips.
Theo raised an eyebrow once he clasped his free hand with hers and they began to move. “Ah, so that’s how it’s going to be?” he muttered. “Scandalous, Miss Adams. We’re in polite society tonight.” His fingers tightened at the small of her back and his smirk grew all the more crooked.
“I thought we agreed I was actually feral. I thought that meant I wasn’t fit for polite society anyway.” If her eyes glittered, she couldn’t be held responsible. “Idolike to go rummaging around in dumpsters, scavenging through trash to find treasure, after all.”
“I know you do. Hardly a typical genteel hobby, and as something of a garbage person myself in some ways, one I find particularly endearing.” It was his turn for mischief to light up his gaze. “And again: I never said I was afraid of scandal. Rather think I sort of embody the concept, all things considered.”
She closed her eyes and let him guide her slowly around the dance floor, both of them focused on each other’s movements while they let their bodies sway in time to the music, their currents synchronized and melded.
Theo wasn’t nearly as awkward as he was that time in his house. Despite the limp, he still moved with enough grace and coordination to betray his athletic past, and Audrey began to suspect that he might’ve greatly exaggerated his lack of skill in this arena. Maybe he was actually quite good. Maybe he’d actually had some lessons growing up. Maybe—
“Wait.” When she gasped, she opened her eyes and found him watching her closely.
